Your Husband is Waiting

I sit on my wet mattress for a moment, my head buried in my hands. My heart feels like a heavy, leaden weight in my chest. I think about my dad. He’s the only person who ever loves me without conditions, the only one who looks at me and doesn’t see a defect. He’s been my shield for twenty years, but he’s always travelling, always trying to find a way to keep our family’s status afloat.

Now he’s gone, and the shield is broken.

I stand up, my legs feeling like jelly, and walk to the small, cracked mirror above my dresser. I look terrible. My hair is a tangled mess of brown waves, and my eyes are red-rimmed. I’m small, pale, and fragile. I reach out and touch the cold glass.

“Moon Goddess,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “If you can hear me, even though I’m not one of yours, please. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to marry him. Send me a saviour. Send me anything.”

Silence is my only answer.

I’m not surprised. The Moon Goddess gives gifts to the wolves: strength, speed, and soulmates. To a human like me, she gives nothing. I’m a mistake in her divine plan, a shadow in a world of bright, predatory light.

I scrub myself in the tiny, cramped shower until my skin is raw. The water is barely lukewarm, but it’s better than the ice from the pitcher. I struggle into the dress, the fabric rubbing against my collarbones.

I can’t reach the buttons at the back. I’m still fumbling with the tiny, cheap pearls when Jess barges back in without knocking.

“Still not ready? Unbelievable.”

She grabs the back of the dress and yanks the buttons through the loops. She doesn’t care that she’s pinching my skin.

“There. Try not to rip it with your fat human hips.”

“I’m not fat, Jess,” I mutter.

She spins me around and starts dragging a brush through my wet hair. She doesn’t use any detangler. She simply rips through the knots, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“You’re a burden, Belle. You’ve always been a burden. Today is the first day you’re actually being useful. You should be thanking us for finding someone willing to take you off our hands.”

“Marrying a man who might kill me isn’t a favour,” I say.

Jess leans down, her breath hot against my ear. It smells of mint and chocolate.

“Maybe he’ll kill you. That would be the best wedding present I could ask for.”

She pushes me towards the vanity and starts slapping makeup onto my face. She has no skill whatsoever. She uses too much powder and a jarring, bright-orange lipstick. By the time she’s done, I look like a doll left out in the rain and painted by a toddler.

I want to cry, but I know that will only make things worse.

“Perfect,” Jess mocks. “You look like a proper little abomination.”

We head downstairs. Every step feels like a march towards a cliff. My heels are half a size too small, and they pinch my toes, making my gait awkward and stilted.

The pack is already gathering in the foyer. They watch me descend the stairs, and the whispers begin immediately.

“Look at her,” a woman sneers. She’s a high-ranking warrior in my father’s pack. “How can she even walk in those shoes? She’s so weak.”

“A human bride for Alpha Luke,” a man adds. “It’s a disgrace to our kind. He must be desperate.”

I keep my eyes on the floor. I don’t look at them. I don’t want to see the hatred. I just want to get to the car. I want to get this over with so my father can come home.

I remember him telling me stories about my mother, about how she has eyes just like mine. He tells me I’m special, but in this room, “special” feels a lot like “broken.”

Veronica waits by the front door. She’s wearing a deep-red dress that fits her like a second skin. She looks regal. She looks like she belongs.

She grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh with a strength I can’t fight.

“The car is waiting,” she says. “Remember your place, Belle. One word out of line, one tear in front of Luke, and your father stays in that hole forever. Do you understand me?”

“I understand,” I say. My voice feels as though it belongs to someone else.

She leads me outside. The air is crisp and cool, smelling of pine needles and damp earth. A long, black sedan idles in the driveway. The driver is a wolf I don’t recognise, his expression stoic and unmoving.

As I climb into the back seat, I feel the weight of the mansion behind me. It’s never been a home, but it’s the only place I’ve ever known.

The car pulls away, gravel crunching beneath the tyres. I look out the window at the dense forest of the Northwest. The trees are so tall they seem to swallow the sky. We’re heading deep into the mountains, towards the fortress where Alpha Luke keeps his court.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Jess says from the seat beside me.

She’s checking her reflection in a small gold compact.

“Luke is the second most powerful Alpha in the entire region. He has more land and more warriors than almost anyone.”

I don’t say anything. I simply watch the trees blur into a wall of dark green.

“The only one who could even challenge him is Alpha Adrian,” Jess continues, her voice dropping slightly as she mentions the name. “But Adrian is a ghost. He doesn’t attend weddings. He doesn’t play politics. He just kills anyone who crosses his borders. At least with Luke, you’ll have a roof over your head before he gets bored of you.”

I’ve heard of Adrian. Everyone has. They call him the Sleepless Alpha. They say he hasn’t closed his eyes in years, that he spends his nights prowling the woods, guarding a territory so vast and dangerous that even the Council doesn’t dare interfere.

He’s a legend of terror, a man who makes the air turn cold just by entering a room.

The thought of him sends a shiver down my spine. If Luke is the man I’m supposed to fear, then Adrian is the monster the monsters fear.

The car begins to climb a steep, winding road. The forest thins out, revealing a massive stone estate perched on a jagged cliffside. It looks like a medieval castle, all grey rock and sharp angles.

This is it. The end of my life as Belle, the human girl, and the beginning of whatever nightmare Luke has planned for me.

As we pull up to the iron gates, they swing open with a heavy, grinding groan. I grip the scratchy fabric of my dress, my knuckles turning white.

I’m terrified. I’m alone.

And as the car stops in front of the mansion’s massive oak doors, I realise I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Get out,” Veronica says, her voice cold. “Your husband is waiting.”